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User blog:Loki42/Prologue: The fire cleanses
Hello everyone, this is the prologue of the new story I've been working on. You shouldn't count on chapters coming out every few days. Let's get started! The night was still in yharnam, a rare commodity that usually never lasted for more than an hour. And that assumption held true for this night as well. "Shit man," the young guard licked his lips nervously. "It's never this quiet, I don't like this Patrick." He said this with a no small amount of Reverence to the older man. Patrick smiled, he was quite fond of the younger mam, he scowled. If only he could remember his damn name! "Everything will be fine, after all what idiot would attack the Pawtuckets? They're one of the most influential families in Yharnam!" He gave a chuckle and sure enough, reassured by his surperior's confidenced the fresh faced man relaxed. Though his confidence was all a farce. The kid is right, something here wasn't right. Patrick thought to himself. His heart racing he surveyed the surrounding streets, his leg throbbed painfully. I'll need to take some blood soon he thought. There! A shadow flicked across an alley on his right. Oh wait, "It's only a beggar" he said aloud. The young man looked at him, startled. Then he looked to where Patrick pointed. "Sir, I don't see anybody." Patrick did a double take. He didn't see the beggar anymore. Then he noticed something amiss. "Wasn't that streetlight on?" No longer than a second elapsed when a barbed chain knife made from black steel hurled out of the darkness and buried itself within the young man's throat! Patrick didn't hesitate,in his near 40 years of experience in the military it was no good to dwell on the dead. The alarm needed to be rung. He ran to the Bell and was mere inches away from ringing it when something wrapped around his leg, tore the skin and tripped him. Dazed he barely noticed he was being dragged towards his assailant. Finally, rough callosed hands used to weaponry turned him around. Patrick cringe, what befell his eyes was nothing short of a nightmare. His dark hair was cropped to his scalp, his green eyes were wild and bloodshot. He was a big man, easily capable of crushing his skull with his bare hands. His weapon was in porpotion with his size. He smirked, sensing Patrick's fear and savoring it. He was missing teeth, probably on purpose because he mad metal replacements. Replacements that he had taken care to file down to sharp points. But perhaps the most menacing of all was the mask, it was made in the likeness of a beast's skull. Except that it was missing the lower jaw leaving his mouth free. Probably to bite. It appeared to be made of real bone. Patrick drew breath to scream, to yell for his other guard members, possibly even to cry. But before he could the man's massive paw clasped over his mouth preventing any noise from escaping. "Do you know who I am?" He asked Patrick, his voice was near equivalent to metal grating on metal. It sent shivers yet again down Patrick's spine. He removed his hand. "You're Satangel," he said in a whisper, all thoughts of alerting the others guards were gone. "Yes" he growled obviously pleased Patrick knew of him. "Best not forget it, and as a reward" he cocked his fist back. "You get to live!" He socked him behind the ear and Patrick folded. Satangel smiled again, baring his artificial fangs. "Get ready Miss Pawtuckets" and he walked into the courtyard. Fearless of the countless guard stationed there. Patrick awoke to the smell of burning flesh and smoke. He got up from the ground and watched through the bars of the gate servants burning on the grass and the servants on the inside banging on the windows in a plea he could not hear from his position. Patrick watched as the Manor the only home he had ever known burned to the ground with his family still inside. (That took way longer than it should have, expect a bunch more of chapters in September. When school comes back in session.) Category:Blog posts